


Cut

by SgtMac



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Attempted Sexual Assault, F/F, Split Queen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-14
Updated: 2016-10-14
Packaged: 2018-08-22 08:35:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8279650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SgtMac/pseuds/SgtMac
Summary: Still struggling to find grounding after her split from the Queen, Regina returns to New York to try to find answers; Emma follows her there and the two of them get into a bit of a scrape which brings them to a few truths about Regina's state and what - and who - she needs the very most. Pre-SQ.





	

It’s three months into the Queen’s return, and three months into the temper tantrum of the century (the Queen is good at emoting, and at punishment, and she's still feeling betrayed and rejected so there's a fair amount of that to go around) and Regina’s feeling like she’s both the Tin Man and the Cowardly Lion from the Wizard of Oz. When she mentions this to Zelena on late evening, her sister laughs and breaks into some long rambling story - which rapidly becomes an angry diatribe, and maybe they should reconsider drinking together, these women - about how those particular legendary storybook characters had been a giant pain in the ass to her, and how she would like nothing more than to maim them both.

Regina says nothing in response, but she’s not exactly listening because her mind is hundreds of miles away, and she thinks maybe she’s finally come up with something of a plan for how to ground herself again. The Queen - for all of her angry bluster and easy violence - has been somewhat quiet as of late (in fairness, as of late just means the last week or so, but that’s still better than the first eleven weeks). She’s watching and waiting, and it might be dangerous to give her evil twin an opening, but the Queen wants something specific, and so Regina thinks perhaps she has time.

Not a lot of it, but maybe just enough to find her heart and her courage.

She sends Henry a text while he's at school, something simple to tell him she’s going to be out of range for a few days and he should stay near Emma and make sure to eat well and do his homework and all of that motherly stuff. She tells him not to worry, but that she just needs some time to collect her thoughts. She has an idea on how to deal with Hyde and the Queen and everything is okay.

She hopes that the part about having an idea will reassure him that she’s fine.

She packs a bag and it’s just three days or so worth of clothes that she folds together (which is how she assures herself that she’s not running) and then she carefully programs the GPS on her phone to take her and her vintage Mercedes back to New York.

Back to that rooftop.

That’s where the answers are, Regina tells herself.

That’s where she’ll find what she lost.

And maybe find a way to get it back.

 

* * *

 

Henry gets the text message and calls his other mother and his grandmother over the mansion immediately (he’d run home as soon as he’d got it, taking in the absentee car and then quickly locating her missing travel bag). Holding up the phone, he says, “My mom is in trouble.”

Emma sighs, and rolls her head on her neck, looking over at Zelena who is sitting primly at the kitchen table, her baby in her arms. “What do you know?” she asks, and wishes she could avoid this woman. Problem is, they both care about the same person a whole lot so…there’s now.

And she supposes she really should let go of everything between she and Zelena, right?

“She’s upset,” Zelena admits, and seems herself fairly upset herself by Regina’s sudden unannounced disappearance. “She said she didn’t feel brave or like she had a heart in her.”

“The split,” Snow says unnecessarily.

“Yeah. We could just let her have a few days. Like she asked,” Zelena suggests.

“She doesn’t know the world outside of here,” Henry insists.

“She has been out there on her own before,” Emma reminds him.

“Not like this. You know how reckless she gets when she’s upset.”

“He’s right,” Snow notes.

“She’s not a child,” Zelena puts in grouchily.

“I’ll need her blood,” Emma says, gesturing to Zelena.

“And if I refuse?”

Emma lifts an eyebrow at her, the challenge clear.

“Fine,” Zelena sighs and throws out her hand. “But maybe she does just need a minute from all of you wondering if she can handle everything all the time. Have you ever thought about that?”

“We don’t need her to handle everything,” Snow insists.

“No, you just need her to be all right so you can be free to be happy in your lives without worrying about the people you’ve had to step over to get there, isn’t that right, dear?”

“I suppose you would know,” Emma replies, her voice low. Before Zelena can reply, she whirls her hand to make a map and a pin-needle appear in front of them. She then leans forward, pricks Zelena’s finger (which earns her a dramatic hiss which makes even Henry roll his eyes) and then drops the blood onto the map. “New York,” she says, and doesn’t sound the least bit surprised.

“I can come with,” Henry suggests.

“No. If she needs to talk, she won’t while you’re there,” Emma tells him.

“She could.”

“You know she won’t.”

“Because she thinks she has to protect me. Even from herself.”

“Especially from herself.”

“I’m not afraid of my mom,” Henry tells them, his tone firm.

“But she’s afraid of herself,” Snow states, a hand on his shoulder.

“Fine. Just bring her home.”

"I will."

“She was always coming home,” Zelena grumbles at them, but she doesn’t seem as sure as her words are. Which makes everyone wonder if she’d been wondering just as much as they had.

And worrying just as much as they had.

Emma looks right at her, long and steady enough to make Zelena finally lift her eyes up and make contact, blue meeting green resolutely. “I’ll bring her home,” she says softly. Then to her mother, she says, "I know you'd like to go as well -"

"But Hyde and the Queen, I know. Go. We've got this."

Emma nods, grabs her jacket, kisses Henry on the top of the head and steps through the door.

Heading back to the "real world" once again.

 

* * *

 

“You’re a pain in the ass, Swan,” Regina murmurs – without even bothering to turn around - when the door to the rooftop garden slams shut with a satisfying clunk and then a loud click.

“Yeah, but you’ve known that a long time, and I think you kind of knew I'd show up here, didn't you? I mean me or my mother."

"Yes," Regina admits. "I suppose I was hoping maybe for once you'd surprise me."

"If you say so. Have you been up here all night?” Emma asks as she steps closer. “You had almost a six-hour lead on me. And it’s freezing goddamn cold up here.”

“Yes.”

Emma approaches. “And? Did you find your answers?”

“No.”

“Okay. Then how about we get out of the cold and go get a drink?”

“What?”

“We can stay up here and stare at the skyline or we can go get a beer -”

“I don’t drink beer.”

“Or do shots.”

Regina scowls.

“And you can tell me what made you leave Storybrooke.”

“I’m sure you have a guess of your own,” Regina replies sulkily.

“Yeah, but it’s your story not mine.”

That makes the older woman look up at her, seeming to finally understand that Emma isn’t here for any other reason than but to support her. “Fine,” Regina says with a sigh. “Let’s go drink.”

 

* * *

 

The drinking part goes just fine.

Even the whole declining of dances from random strangers part is pretty uneventful.

A dude mutters something about dykes, and Emma places a hand on Regina’s forearm and says, “It’s fine,” and then wonders if it actually is because Regina is clearly upset about it all.

But then she seems to forget about him and that within minutes so Emma lets it go.

Because though Regina’s not talking, she is drinking, and it’s quiet if not overly useful.

That is until Emma convinces her that they should head back to Neal’s apartment for the night.

“Sleep it off,” she murmurs and then starts to say something about how they can try the whole talking everything out thing again in the morning. A suggestion which makes Regina grunt.

Which wouldn’t be much of an issue except Regina is a Queen (even without the Queen within her) and such sounds rarely come from her regal lips. Until now, and for some reason or another, that realization fills Emma with a kind of dread – the kind that tells her that something is wrong.

She’s, unfortunately, very right.

“Turn around,” Emma hears from somewhere just behind them, and she sighs even as she does.  Her eyes find Regina’s and she startles because what she sees looking back at her is fear.

Because there’ a man with his arm wrapped around Regina’s torso, and her eyes are glassy and unfocused, but still so afraid because there’s a knife shoved up against the column of her throat.

“Pretty ladies,” the man says and leers, and Emma would kick him if she could get to him – and to his probably very well-loved family jewels - but he has Regina’s body between the two of them, and suddenly a night of drinking seems like a very bad idea. Even if Regina had needed it.

“What do you want?” Emma asks, noticing the way Regina is wiggling her fingers like she’s trying to pull magic forward. It’s instinctual, Emma realizes, and though the magic isn’t working in the “real world” anymore, Emma finds some relief at the resistance she finds in Regina.

Which, too, is instinctual.

“Money. Sex. The American dream,” the man drawls lazily, a hand dropping down to her hip.

“You can have money,” Emma tells him, and reaches into her back pocket. She pulls out her wallet and holds it up for him to see, angling it enough to the side for him to see the edges of the cash she has within it. “There’s about two hundred in here, and if you move quickly, you can probably charge up about five thousand or so before the banks stop you. So take it and go.”

He laughs cruelly at her words. “This bitch thinks she’s in control.” He presses the knife to Regina’s throat. She hisses and curses, and then she’s reaching out and grabbing his thigh and digging her nails into the soft flesh she finds there. It’s a surprising and not at all surprising move, but it’s also one that backfires spectacularly; he howls and grinds the knife in and Regina lets out this horrific sound which Emma thinks she’ll never forget for as long as she lives.

It’s a wheezing gasp, and then there’s wide panicked eyes and blood.

“That was stupid,” he hisses, his mouth against her ear; she shivers violently.

“Okay, okay,” Emma pleads. “Just take the money, okay? Please?”

“Maybe I want to take her. She does owe me now.”

Emma shakes her head, telling Regina not to respond.

It’s a nearly impossible thing for Emma to tell such a strong woman.

But they have no leverage and -

He savagely bites Regina’s ear at the same time as he harshly gropes at her breast.

Two things happen at the same time, then: Regina’s hand reaches up and even though there’s a knife to her throat which could end her life in mere seconds, she grabs for her attacker’s greasy hair and yanks, and in the same moment, Emma surges forward and plows into both of them.

All of three of them hit the ground with a low pained thud, and then there’s squirming and Emma’s vaguely aware that she somewhat atop Regina (until she’s isn’t, and that’s something of a shock) and then she’s grabbing Regina’s arms because limbs are flailing around wildly.

And hands are hitting: Regina is punching the man beneath her.

Hitting and hitting and hitting.

And the sound she’d made when the knife had cut her is nothing like this one.

This sound is what someone makes when they’re done feeling helpless.

“Regina!”

If Regina hears her, she shows no indication of it – instead, she just keeps striking out.

Emma notes the blood on Regina’s knuckles, and it seems astonishing to her – even if only for the briefest of moments - that a woman as small as Regina - even knowing exactly who she had once been - could cause so much damage, but she’s always been a little bit stronger than she looks and she’s angry and frustrated and so incredibly sick and tired of feeling like she’s lost.

She’s done feeling like she’s a victim or a slave to any kind of man or fate.

Desperate to stop this before it goes too far and too much is done, Emma locks her legs around her and pulls them both back, yanking Regina away from the bloodied man. And then she’s wrapping her arms around her. “We have to go,” she whispers, feeling the trembling against her.

“Emma?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” and then she’s sliding an arm around Regina and pulling her up, and they’re both just a blind as they stagger away (Emma drops for a second, checks to ensure the man has a pulse) and then they’re stumbling towards the apartment and up the stairs. They fall in through the doors, and then Emma is grabbing Regina by the shoulders and steering her to the bed.

If this were a romantic comedy or even a romantic horror movie (Emma allows herself to wonder for just the briefest of moments if such a thing actually exists), this would be the prologue to a night of mind-blowing rough against every wall and surface sex. But…this is just their life.

And Regina’s eyes, though wild, don’t suggest that she’s looking for a romantic partner.

Emma watches her for a long moment, clocking the older woman’s disorientation.

“Regina,” she finally says, her tone intentionally sharp.

The older woman blinks. "I -”

“Look at me.”

Regina does, looking like she either might scream or cry. Or perhaps a little bit of both.

“We’re okay. You’re okay.” Stepping forward, she kneels down and then folds her hands around Regina’s bloody hands, and for the moment, Emma tries to ignore the blood on Regina’s throat.

“Did I kill him?”

“No.”

“I’m supposed to say good, right?”

“You don’t have to say anything.”

Regina just nods, for a moment looking so terribly lost again.

It’s something they’ve never done before, and Emma pauses just for a moment before she does, but then she’s leaning over and putting her arms around Regina and she’s pulling Regina close to her, holding her there and offering her comfort. There’s a moment of stiffening, a moment of slight resistance, but then Regina is crumbling into her, the alcohol and the pain all too much.

She _breaks_ , and Emma just holds her through it.

 

* * *

 

“I’m sorry,” is the first thing Regina says in the morning, squinting through a massive headache and the pain of her body and the injuries which she’d suffered during the scuffle with their attacker the night before. Emma’s standing over her with orange juice and bagels, and though the apartment blinds have been pulled closed, there’s still a spray of light coming into the room.

Emma thinks she should have taken out a wager on Regina’s first words, but it probably would have been considered a sucker’s bet. She tilts her head and offers the slightest smile. “You have nothing to apologize to me for,” Emma tells her, her voice gentle. “It was my idea to go there.”

“Yes, but -”

“That guy wasn’t going to settle for my wallet or yours,” Emma reminds her.

“I know. I’m just…I’m sorry I dragged you into another mess.”

“We got out of it.”

“I’m sorry you had to…deal with me last night.”

“If it’d been me, what would you have done?”

“It wouldn’t have been you,” Regina tells her.

“Oh, trust me, I’ve been in my share of bar-fights. And alley fights.”

“Perhaps, but you wouldn’t have made yourself weak and helpless by coming back to New York without magic or any way to defend yourself just to -” Regina shakes her head, looking disgusted at herself and how pathetic, vulnerable and exposed she perceives herself to be at this moment.

“To what?” Emma urges, sitting beside her, and then handing her a bagel.

Regina looks at it weirdly, like it is its own kind of non-sequitur, and Emma supposes it is, but thinks maybe that’s a good thing. After a moment, Regina says, “Find myself.  I feel like I lost myself and…but if I lost myself and it was the Queen I lost, then what does that say about me?”

“It says we made a mistake,” Emma states “And you’re trying to figure it out.”

“You’re being too kind.”

“No, I’m telling it to  you it like I see it. This is where things went weird. Coming back here, it makes sense. Zelena said you feel like you’re chasing your courage and your heart.” She shakes her head. “But Regina, no one in the world has the courage and heart that you have. You made a choice and maybe it was the wrong one, but it was to try to make everything better for all of us.”

“I was running from myself, Emma. I ran from who I am. I tried to hide.”

“And then you came back here to face it.”

“Does it matter?”

“Courage isn’t just sacrificing yourself,” Emma tells her pointedly.

Regina looks down, looks at her hands which are covered in bruises and welts, her eyes catching on a particularly ugly cut. “I don’t remember much from last night, but I remember hitting.”

“He nearly sliced your throat open. You kicked his ass, Regina; I’d say you did pretty good for someone who thinks that they were helpless just because they don’t have magic,” Emma tells her and almost reaches for her. She’d waited until Regina had passed out the night before trying to tend to her many injuries. Thankfully, the wounds on her throat hadn’t been as deep as she had previously feared. Regina’s hands, however, look like she’s a boxer who forgot to wear their gloves. Swollen, badly bruised and cut up, they lack all of their usual beauty and elegance.

“He bit me and…” one of her hands goes up to touch her ear and she winces when she fit the cut there. “I lost control. I saw so much behind me that I thought I’d put behind me, but I never have and…it doesn’t matter.” Her hands flex and she grimaces, her eyes on the many cuts there.

“It does to me.”

“Why?” Regina asks. “Why do you keep getting involved in my messes?”

“You’re my friend.”

“You told me you were done cleaning them up.”

Emma smiles thinly, humorlessly at that. “Can we call that my asshole stage?”

That earns her a laugh. “I suppose I understand those…stages better than most.”

“Yeah,” Emma agrees. “And you’re still my friend. The one I won’t give up on. Ever. What happened last night - the part you’re really beating yourself up about right now even though you’re kind of freaked out to admit it? The whole coming apart with me? The bit where you broke down and actually allowed yourself to be afraid? I’m glad that I was able to be there.”

Regina looks at her, their eyes meeting, the understanding of just how deep this thing which doesn’t seem to exactly have a name or label runs between the two of them there. There are so many absurd and crazy complications to considering anything _more_ , and there’s so much static and baggage, but still Emma is here, and she’s not shying away. “Me, too," she admits, their similarities coming together once again to help them perfectly understand each other. Then, "So what I do now?"

“You tell me what’s going on in your head,” Emma explains, offering her the fresh-squeezed orange juice now. “And then we go home, and we try to figure out a way to fix all of this.”

“And if I can’t be fixed?”

“I didn’t say fix you,” Emma clarifies. “I said ‘this’. And by ‘this’, I mean we see if we can un-do what we did on the roof three months ago. But you, Regina, _you_ don’t need to be fixed.”

Regina lets out a breath. “Okay.” Then, “But do we have to…talk now?”

“No,” Emma replies. “We can have breakfast now, and then if you’re up for it, I can show you around New York City. We’ve been here twice, and not done that, and it’s a pretty cool city.”

“We’ve had other things going on.”

“Yeah,” Emma agrees. “But today, we don’t. Today, it’s just…us. Here. Just us and New York.”

Regina smiles, thankful in ways she can’t put into words.

She doesn’t need to.

 

* * *

 

They’re across the line twenty seconds when Emma signals for her to pull the Benz over. She does and then Emma is getting out and coming over to her, stepping extremely close to her.

“What’s wrong?”

“Let me see your hands.”

“Oh.” She hands them over to Emma, feels them wrapped in the warmth which is uniquely Emma’s, and when she takes them back, they’re smooth and without injury once again.

“Your hands didn’t upset me, but I know they upset you. But I need you to know – I need you understand that We did okay without magic,” Emma tells her. It’s her way of reminding her that they have always found a way to fight and survive no matter what had been tossed at them.

“We did,” Regina agrees, her own hands on her throat and then on her ear, the gashes there fading away. The removal of the wounds doesn’t clear away the demons and ghosts which lurk in her imagination – the fear related to what that man had wanted to do to her – but it does help.

“Your courage, your heart,” Emma insists, still holding one of her hands tightly in her own. “You might not feel like you have all of it because she has some of it, but what you do have is more than enough and -”

“I know,” Regina interjects, because in a moment, they’ll be back at home with all of the complications and expectations and eyes on them again. And this is all too much for them.

At least for now.

So she smiles, wet-eyed and thankful.

Emma says, “Then let’s go home.”

 

* * *

 

Home is where everyone is.

Their family.

The people they both need, and that, too is something they have in common more than they ever would have ever thought possible.

Regina settles a hand on Zelena’s shoulder and squeezes; Zelena pretends not to care that she’s come back in one piece, but her eyes light up with relief and her sarcasm is somewhat muted.

“So, there’s something we need to do,” Emma says as she sits. She looks over at Regina who has seated herself next to Henry at the table (her hand is curled with his, and it's remarkable just how good they are at reassuring one another now) and waits for her to nod her approval. She does, and Emma continues, “We need to find a way to put Regina and the Queen back together. It was a mistake to pull them apart to begin with, and now, I think we need to make things right again.”

“You’re sure?” Snow asks, and doesn’t seem as shocked as they’d expected her to be.

But her eyes are wise, and thoughtful, and maybe Regina and Emma hadn’t been the only ones having long conversations over the last few days.

Regina looks down at her hands. Hands capable of violence with or without the Queen.

With or without magic.

She might have heart and courage, but she’s not herself, not who she knows how to be. She looks up, finds the eyes of the people she loves – Henry, Snow, Zelena and Emma -  and says, “Yes.”

**-Fin**

 


End file.
